Birdee wasn't a particularly brave individual. No one would ever associate traits like dauntless, strong, valiant, or heroic with the young woman. While Birdee wasn't a wimp, or coward, per say, she was well aware of the strengths and weaknesses she possessed. Not necessarily what to do with those strengths and weaknesses, but she was aware of them. For instance, she would never win the Miss Punctual award, but if someone needed to know how to make Ramen taste like a gourmet ******* dish, she was your girl.
There were a lot of things Birdee knew, and a lot of things Birdee didn't know about. Just recently, that rang truer than ever when she ran into Heathen and Lincoln whatever his last name was. Birdee had found out that her special abilities didn't heal anything and everything under the sun (or moon!). But what she did know, from a slip of the tongue from the woman that had been training her these last few months to tap into her true abilities; the ones that ran deeper than seeing aura's or signs and patterns in the things around her; was that there were other humans that were special too. Physically stronger than regular humans, even humans like Birdee. Created by people like Birdee. By Sorcerers.
The story was a little hazy when it came to the full details. It was hard to remember the exact details because Birdee might have been chewing the Heroin infused gum that Satine gave her the day she started working for her. Satine wasn't a bad person by any means, and didn't introduce Birdee to the drug; Birdee had dabbled in just about every type of drug out there by the time she was seventeen. But from what Birdee could remember, it was something like this. Once upon a time humans were scared shitless of vampires because they were maybe doing something bad, like killing people, but maybe not. There was no real solid proof on it, but people did what people did and spazzed out and bonded together and a special group of people were created by sorcerers in an attempt to kick some vampire ***. From there, the rest of the details were not clear-maybe they won this war on vampires, or maybe they didn't. Vampires seemed to just vanish over night practically and weren't seen or heard from again until last year or something.
Well, after sharing a couple pieces of gum from Satine with her mentor, some more details were slipped into Birdee's ear; things that were probably before her time and understanding, but it had her interest. Mostly because Birdee had some vampire 'friends,' (friends being a loose term because Birdee didn't try to make or keep friends due to her sensitive nature), who had never steered her wrong and had actually taken good care of her. Never mind the fact that she never got any sort of vibes off them (other than the dead kind), which made them the people Birdee wanted to hang out with. But she knew that not a lot of people felt the same way she felt. And if the last time humans got together and went ape **** crazy over vampires, it probably wouldn't take long for them to do it again. People should take a page out of her book and just sit back, smoke a little and chill the **** out and watch the show from the sidelines. But people just couldn't let things go how it was meant to go. People tried to change their destiny's; fought against it with tooth and nail and it would only be a matter of time.
The idea had came to Birdee after a series of events. The first being her mentor telling her about this story that she wasn't one thousand percent sure was true to even begin with. Then getting hired by Satine and even being befriended by the woman. Meeting Heathen, who more or less defended her, from some sleaze ball who couldn't wait a few extra days to get his money from her. Then the run in with a group of people in a bar that had mentioned putting vampires on a registry or something similar to that. Camps, was uttered, along with jail. Just because people didn't know what to do about this new revelation that they weren't the only ones that could walk, talk, think and do things for themselves on this planet anymore. That there might be something better than humans. And humans needed to just relax and not see the bad stuff some vampires did. In fact, it would be better if they didn't see any of it at all. Maybe they would forget about the horror stories they heard from a neighbor or a biased newspaper. Not genuinely forget, but in Birdee's mind, it could be something like a bad candidate winning Prime Minister or something. Everyone hates it at first, then people just get over it and deal with it because they had to and soon, it's so far in the back of their mind.
So, while she was on her back in her bed, looking up at the ceiling in her one bedroom apartment, focusing on the fluorescent green colored sticky stars she put up there sometime last year, Birdee came up with an idea. Vampires weren't the problem-not really. Maybe they presented some problems on an individual case-by-case basis, but wasn't that true about humans on an individual level? Some were great, some were okay and some were real pieces of ****. What the bigger problem was, or is, is that there were other things out there that didn't have half a brain or more to know what they were doing was bad. They weren't able to control their own innate drives and desires, unlike humans and vampires (if either choose to control those things, that was). Take the mindless things in the QZ. All the wanted to do was go around biting things and attacking them as they walked by. Same for the things in the catacombs; which was right where she met Heathen. Though, maybe the guy couldn't control his impulses either, some would argue. Proof of that was with the guy who may or may not have lived through the pulverization process of his face from the strong AF vampire.
Necessary evils, Birdee concluded. Paladins were supposed to be good at fighting and crap like that and Birdee...well, she just wasn't good at that stuff. Heathen, was. If she was going to make a paladin or two to join on her quest of destroying things that made vampires get a bad reputation, then they would definitely need to know how to fight. Necessary evils. Birdee thought to herself as she squinted, focusing on a star that seemed to be losing its glow; at least in comparison to the other stars on her ceiling. After a couple more minutes of a debate, Birdee plucked the heroin infused gum out of her mouth and tossed it in a kleenex from a box next to her bed and tossed it in a small, cheap, black trash bin near her door after she stood up. It was decided. Heathen would have to play a part in this little quest.
She grabbed her phone and scrolled through it, looking for Mr. Punch Happy’s number and indicated the text option with a firm press of her pointer finger on the ‘message icon.’ No way was she going to call him and try and get suckered into telling him more than she was ready to. He would probably hang up, not that she could blame him. Birdee probably would hang up on herself on a day she was of sound mind.
To: Heathen
From: Birdee
Message: I need a hook-up. You might have what I need. Meet up?
Like she was going to tell him that she might need him to teach his wicked fighting skills to anyone she’s planning on trying to transform into a superhuman in a text message. And she might very well need his help with that too. She doubted anyone was going to sign up willy nilly. Muscles went a long way in the world.
Friends in Strange Places
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Birdee
- Registered User
- Posts: 227
- Joined: 08 Oct 2016, 23:25
- CrowNet Handle: Rompasaurus
Friends in Strange Places
In the land of gods and monsters,
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
-
Heathen
- Registered User
- Posts: 52
- Joined: 03 Oct 2016, 18:56
Re: Friends in Strange Places
The night marched on towards the midnight hour, like a sea of boots stomping in tandem, with rifles and bayonets called stars, which gleamed against the uniform black. The moon, she was their general, growing more frail with each passing day, growing sick on the mithridate that was meant to make her stronger. Milo Graham laid under the eternal war, beneath a roof with too many missing shingles, underneath rotted wood and carpet and flooring. He was in an abandoned apartment, and there was no work for him. Unsurprising, considering he was winter, the twelfth hour, the last recourse. Jazz's calling was to intimidate, to look into the eyes of any man and see the fear that lingered there, to exploit and tease it to the surface. In a way, what he did was far more elegant than Heathen's role. It left him with a lot of free time, which anyone who knew the vampire could say was a terrible idea.
It all started because he was bored. At first, he'd attempted to sate his need for activity by watching YouTube vids. There was some new war between Keemstar and Leafy. Or someone else. He loved binging on someone else's drama because it reminded him that the world was a painfully small and petty place. Even in the vastness of the burning death and freezing nothing which was the universe, even though the earth itself was little more than a speck in the grand scheme of everything, humans still managed to stuff themselves into tiny boxes. Labels became meaningless because they were used so often. Next had been Spotify, with an embarrassing number of songs by En Vogue, wherein he'd attempted to work on one of his half dozen projects. He had been teaching himself how to work with wood, the internet as his tutor. He didn't have all of the best tools, nor was patience one of his strengths. His dremel tool split the spatula (hey everyone's got to start somewhere) he'd been working on, resulting in its flying out of the window at breakneck speeds.
About a half hour after that, he realized he was going to need to replace it, a situation he summed up in a single word. ****.
He stood in front of his closet, with the door flung open. A stick figure looked back at him from under the empty frame of what had once been a full body mirror. There was a speech bubble coming from the stick figure's body saying 'Just ******* pick something.' The something Heathen went with was an x-ray tank top in black. He also pulled on some straight cut, ripped-at-the-knee biker jeans. They were fitted for a slim body, and intentionally longer in the leg than he was so that when he donned his favorite Doc Martens, the fabric bunched in a few places. Last came the skull rings, of which there were too many, but they doubled as weapons, so **** anyone else's opinion on the matter.
He didn't bother with a coat, because there didn't seem to be a reason. He felt it, but it couldn't really do anything to him. If someone wanted to touch skin like ice, that was on them.
He had to put his smoke out before he got into the all night convenience store, tossing what was little more than a burning filter onto the ground so it could ash over as he stomped on it in passing. Large glass doors moved to either side as he invaded. He went straight to the section for power tools, and got what he wanted, snagged a pack of gum in the check out, and then armed with his plastic bag of items he realized he didn't want to go home and work on his project. The sound that came from him was like the irritated half-growl of a persistently pestered canine. He ended up double bagging his items, and tied the plastic bag to one of his belt loops at the hip so he could go take another look around. He didn't expect to find anything new or interesting, but he wanted to play a game he'd recently made up.
He spotted his first target, a woman in a rumpled, off the rack business suit. She looked tired, and obviously hadn't bothered to touch up her dark roots in a while. Probably the sort of person who was always on her feet. He walked up to her, as she was checking out the ingredients on the back of a soup can, so he could slide his cold hands over her. He looked into her eyes. "You're so brave." He said. And smiled. Then he turned and walked away.
He could feel eyes on the back of his head.
He could hear words forming on her lips. Questions. But he was gone before any of them could spill into the air. What did he think of her, that he was calling her brave? In the modern world, that term was used as a virtue signal. Anyone who did anything outside of the box. Anyone who wasn't 'normal', was called brave. It was like telling someone fat they had a pretty face. Yes. It was a compliment, but everyone knew what the words really meant. 'You're different. You're weird. Your struggle registers as little more to me than a movie with a good plot might.' And the object of the game was to bury a seed of doubt in someone's head. Maybe get a reaction.
He was about to look for his next victim when he felt a buzzing at his hip. He pulled his phone free so he could scan the words. It seemed BB wanted to meet up with him. He didn't have anything on hand to sell, so he shot back a response.
To: Birdee
From: Heathen
Message: Thornside park. Thirty minutes. Let me know if you want to meet somewhere else. Nowhere with a lot of people.
Normally he wasn't worried he'd get spotted making a pass, but the truth of the matter was that he looked like a corpse usually. In light, his eyes became more sunken, darker. His lips were the purple of death, and his skin was like paper. His hair, normally glossy and soft looked frayed and dry. Sure, vampires were 'out', but that didn't mean they were commonplace just yet. Want to draw someone's attention? Be the only corpse-looking asshole in the room.
Time to get home and drop off his dremel, pick up a little of everything else.
It all started because he was bored. At first, he'd attempted to sate his need for activity by watching YouTube vids. There was some new war between Keemstar and Leafy. Or someone else. He loved binging on someone else's drama because it reminded him that the world was a painfully small and petty place. Even in the vastness of the burning death and freezing nothing which was the universe, even though the earth itself was little more than a speck in the grand scheme of everything, humans still managed to stuff themselves into tiny boxes. Labels became meaningless because they were used so often. Next had been Spotify, with an embarrassing number of songs by En Vogue, wherein he'd attempted to work on one of his half dozen projects. He had been teaching himself how to work with wood, the internet as his tutor. He didn't have all of the best tools, nor was patience one of his strengths. His dremel tool split the spatula (hey everyone's got to start somewhere) he'd been working on, resulting in its flying out of the window at breakneck speeds.
About a half hour after that, he realized he was going to need to replace it, a situation he summed up in a single word. ****.
He stood in front of his closet, with the door flung open. A stick figure looked back at him from under the empty frame of what had once been a full body mirror. There was a speech bubble coming from the stick figure's body saying 'Just ******* pick something.' The something Heathen went with was an x-ray tank top in black. He also pulled on some straight cut, ripped-at-the-knee biker jeans. They were fitted for a slim body, and intentionally longer in the leg than he was so that when he donned his favorite Doc Martens, the fabric bunched in a few places. Last came the skull rings, of which there were too many, but they doubled as weapons, so **** anyone else's opinion on the matter.
He didn't bother with a coat, because there didn't seem to be a reason. He felt it, but it couldn't really do anything to him. If someone wanted to touch skin like ice, that was on them.
He had to put his smoke out before he got into the all night convenience store, tossing what was little more than a burning filter onto the ground so it could ash over as he stomped on it in passing. Large glass doors moved to either side as he invaded. He went straight to the section for power tools, and got what he wanted, snagged a pack of gum in the check out, and then armed with his plastic bag of items he realized he didn't want to go home and work on his project. The sound that came from him was like the irritated half-growl of a persistently pestered canine. He ended up double bagging his items, and tied the plastic bag to one of his belt loops at the hip so he could go take another look around. He didn't expect to find anything new or interesting, but he wanted to play a game he'd recently made up.
He spotted his first target, a woman in a rumpled, off the rack business suit. She looked tired, and obviously hadn't bothered to touch up her dark roots in a while. Probably the sort of person who was always on her feet. He walked up to her, as she was checking out the ingredients on the back of a soup can, so he could slide his cold hands over her. He looked into her eyes. "You're so brave." He said. And smiled. Then he turned and walked away.
He could feel eyes on the back of his head.
He could hear words forming on her lips. Questions. But he was gone before any of them could spill into the air. What did he think of her, that he was calling her brave? In the modern world, that term was used as a virtue signal. Anyone who did anything outside of the box. Anyone who wasn't 'normal', was called brave. It was like telling someone fat they had a pretty face. Yes. It was a compliment, but everyone knew what the words really meant. 'You're different. You're weird. Your struggle registers as little more to me than a movie with a good plot might.' And the object of the game was to bury a seed of doubt in someone's head. Maybe get a reaction.
He was about to look for his next victim when he felt a buzzing at his hip. He pulled his phone free so he could scan the words. It seemed BB wanted to meet up with him. He didn't have anything on hand to sell, so he shot back a response.
To: Birdee
From: Heathen
Message: Thornside park. Thirty minutes. Let me know if you want to meet somewhere else. Nowhere with a lot of people.
Normally he wasn't worried he'd get spotted making a pass, but the truth of the matter was that he looked like a corpse usually. In light, his eyes became more sunken, darker. His lips were the purple of death, and his skin was like paper. His hair, normally glossy and soft looked frayed and dry. Sure, vampires were 'out', but that didn't mean they were commonplace just yet. Want to draw someone's attention? Be the only corpse-looking asshole in the room.
Time to get home and drop off his dremel, pick up a little of everything else.
-
Birdee
- Registered User
- Posts: 227
- Joined: 08 Oct 2016, 23:25
- CrowNet Handle: Rompasaurus
Re: Friends in Strange Places
Birdee didn't care where Heathen wanted to meet, anywhere was good with her. She moved out of her bedroom and passed the kitchen and grabbed her coat off from the back of a dining room chair. She pulled it on over her shoulders, stuffed her phone in one of the pockets and yanked open her apartment door. That was when Birdee noticed that she forgot something. When the hallway's cooler temperature hit her bare legs, Birdee remembered that she needed something to cover her legs. Good thing she hadn't made it to the elevator like she did this last summer, before noticing. In her defense, it had been pretty fricken muggy this summer a few days.
Birdee sprint back to her bedroom and went through the mammoth mountain of clean clothing that she failed to hang up or put away two weeks ago already. Birdee found the legs of the pants she wanted and gave it a solid tug, causing other clothes to come cascading off the mountain's side and tumble to the floor. She ignored them for now, and finished yanking the pants out. She practically jumped into them, zipped them up and popped the button shut, before zipping up her coat over her tank top. When her phone went off, Birdee jumped nearly three feet in the air, forgetting she had the volume on.
She laughed at herself as she shut her apartment door closed and locked it, then grabbed her phone and looked at the message. More specifically, the location Heathen wanted to meet her at. At this time of night, Birdee doubted a lot of people, if any would be there; especially given this time of the year. Birdee looked at the time the message was sent and then at the time now and decided to skip the elevator and take the stairs two at a time. In the back of her mind, she knew even then that she wouldn't be able to make it there in thirty minutes.While she jumped her way down the stairs, now fully clothed, Birdee pulled out her phone and sent Heathen a text back.
To: Heathen
From: Birdee
Message: 30 at the park. C u soon.
It was going to be a tight fit on time, she knew, which maybe if she just replied now he could take the thirty minutes into affect starting as soon as she hit the send button. Again, Birdee was not known for being punctual-try as she might. Usually, other things prevented her from being timely. Things like a bus running late, not having enough money for the bus or train system, or simply a television in a store window, playing one of her favorite commercial's or songs as Birdee walked by. Tonight, she had to try and stay focused on her final destination. Thankfully, if she remembered right, in her coat was enough money to catch the train three more times, and since the station was only two or three blocks from her apartment, and then the let off point was right across from the park, there should be hardly any sort of distractions. If only she had a piece of wood to knock on.
Birdee sprint back to her bedroom and went through the mammoth mountain of clean clothing that she failed to hang up or put away two weeks ago already. Birdee found the legs of the pants she wanted and gave it a solid tug, causing other clothes to come cascading off the mountain's side and tumble to the floor. She ignored them for now, and finished yanking the pants out. She practically jumped into them, zipped them up and popped the button shut, before zipping up her coat over her tank top. When her phone went off, Birdee jumped nearly three feet in the air, forgetting she had the volume on.
She laughed at herself as she shut her apartment door closed and locked it, then grabbed her phone and looked at the message. More specifically, the location Heathen wanted to meet her at. At this time of night, Birdee doubted a lot of people, if any would be there; especially given this time of the year. Birdee looked at the time the message was sent and then at the time now and decided to skip the elevator and take the stairs two at a time. In the back of her mind, she knew even then that she wouldn't be able to make it there in thirty minutes.While she jumped her way down the stairs, now fully clothed, Birdee pulled out her phone and sent Heathen a text back.
To: Heathen
From: Birdee
Message: 30 at the park. C u soon.
It was going to be a tight fit on time, she knew, which maybe if she just replied now he could take the thirty minutes into affect starting as soon as she hit the send button. Again, Birdee was not known for being punctual-try as she might. Usually, other things prevented her from being timely. Things like a bus running late, not having enough money for the bus or train system, or simply a television in a store window, playing one of her favorite commercial's or songs as Birdee walked by. Tonight, she had to try and stay focused on her final destination. Thankfully, if she remembered right, in her coat was enough money to catch the train three more times, and since the station was only two or three blocks from her apartment, and then the let off point was right across from the park, there should be hardly any sort of distractions. If only she had a piece of wood to knock on.
In the land of gods and monsters,
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
-
Heathen
- Registered User
- Posts: 52
- Joined: 03 Oct 2016, 18:56
Re: Friends in Strange Places
The trip back home on foot was a short one. Heathen had grown up in the city, where you either walked everywhere, or took transit. Otherwise, chances were you'd end up circling your destination a good thirty times, trying to find an open parking spot. And the part where he'd grown up, there was no guarantee, you'd actually come back to a fully functional car. Or a car at all. So he had developed the brisk walk of someone who had a somewhere to be, no matter where he was going. He ended up making his way through the door of the abandoned apartment, so he could drop off his dremel. The whole place was powered by a generator. The only draw back was that it made a lot of noise. He snapped up a large freezer bag filled with smaller dime bags filled with an assortment of different types of drugs. Mostly weed, meth, ex, and oxy.
He stuffed the bag into a hidden inside pocket of his maroon trench coat, the one with a lower hem that brushed his knees. Then he was out the door. The bus stop was basically right outside his door, across the street. That was one of the things he had to hand to Harper Rock. The HRCT ran pretty smoothly, with a subway that ran through almost the entire city, and a bus system above ground that connected everything else. Traffic sometimes stalled it up, and there was the occasional crash that drove cars to a standstill on the roads. For the most part though, it was pretty reliable. And the moment his *** hit the seat, he slumped back, his gaze drawn through one of the large windows. Despite the chill in the air, the bus itself was pretty warm because of the sprinkling of late night bodies. It was odd. One might have thought that the existence of vampires would have led to a curfew or something, but it was exactly the same type of people and number of people Heathen would have seen on a bus in Chicago at that time of night.
His phone came out when the passing flash of street lamps bored him.
To: Jazz
From: Heathen
Message: Gone for a couple hours. I'll be at Thornside if you get restless.
He hit submit and stuffed the device back into his pocket.
Then a moment later tugged it back out.
To: Jazz
From: Heathen
Message: Dick pics welcome. ;)
And the phone went back into his pocket, his leg moving as he bounced the balls of his foot against the grimy bottom of the bus. He was actually about to pull his phone back out so he could scroll through his contact list and find someone to harass when he heard the door to the vehicle open. Normally this wouldn't have been something to draw his attention, but he recognized the face of the person immediately. Both dark brows lifted. It was Birdee.
Small world. Small world.
He tracked her approach with his gaze, and scooted closer to the window, patting the seat immediately beside him.
"Of all the gin joints or...something." He muttered, tone mirthful.
He stuffed the bag into a hidden inside pocket of his maroon trench coat, the one with a lower hem that brushed his knees. Then he was out the door. The bus stop was basically right outside his door, across the street. That was one of the things he had to hand to Harper Rock. The HRCT ran pretty smoothly, with a subway that ran through almost the entire city, and a bus system above ground that connected everything else. Traffic sometimes stalled it up, and there was the occasional crash that drove cars to a standstill on the roads. For the most part though, it was pretty reliable. And the moment his *** hit the seat, he slumped back, his gaze drawn through one of the large windows. Despite the chill in the air, the bus itself was pretty warm because of the sprinkling of late night bodies. It was odd. One might have thought that the existence of vampires would have led to a curfew or something, but it was exactly the same type of people and number of people Heathen would have seen on a bus in Chicago at that time of night.
His phone came out when the passing flash of street lamps bored him.
To: Jazz
From: Heathen
Message: Gone for a couple hours. I'll be at Thornside if you get restless.
He hit submit and stuffed the device back into his pocket.
Then a moment later tugged it back out.
To: Jazz
From: Heathen
Message: Dick pics welcome. ;)
And the phone went back into his pocket, his leg moving as he bounced the balls of his foot against the grimy bottom of the bus. He was actually about to pull his phone back out so he could scroll through his contact list and find someone to harass when he heard the door to the vehicle open. Normally this wouldn't have been something to draw his attention, but he recognized the face of the person immediately. Both dark brows lifted. It was Birdee.
Small world. Small world.
He tracked her approach with his gaze, and scooted closer to the window, patting the seat immediately beside him.
"Of all the gin joints or...something." He muttered, tone mirthful.
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Birdee
- Registered User
- Posts: 227
- Joined: 08 Oct 2016, 23:25
- CrowNet Handle: Rompasaurus
Re: Friends in Strange Places
Birdee heard the train go traveling past before she managed to get there. After seeing the silver cars pass by through the buildings in front of it, Birdee groaned and turned on her feet. New plan. Bus it would be. Since she had to back track to the bust stop, Birdee picked up her speed while her fingers played with the coins in the pocket of her sweatshirt. Counting them by the feel and size of the coin as her fingers roamed over each one. By the time she got to the stop, the bus was coming her way, but a few blocks down. Not long after she claimed a spot against the pole, her legs crossing together at the ankles. Birdee tipped her head back and looked up at the night sky, her good ear picking up the sound of some music from a pair of headphones that belonged to some guy that stopped a few feet from where she stood as her eyes found his face, from their upside down view.
When the bus came to a stop, Birdee positioned her head back to the way it should normally rest and her eyes landed on none other than Heathen. Wasn't that just...lucky? Birdee thought to herself as she climbed aboard and noticed the spot he made for her. "Hey, H." Birdee said before she sat down next to him, making sure she stayed in her 'seat' and didn't cross over into his. While she was pretty positive she wouldn't get any of his 'vibes,' Birdee still wanted to stick clear of making any real contact with him, or anyone. "Thanks, pal." The words were genuine, no sense of sarcasm or malice in her voice. The guy that had been behind her at the stop, mosied his way past them, Birdee sucking her foot in closer from the aisle to make sure he didn't touch her; even by accident.
"Still feeling like taking me to the park?" Birdee asked, her back finding the back of the plastic seat once the bus starts moving again. "You big romantic, you." Birdee smirked then nudged him with her elbow, indicating she was screwing with him. Obviously, she wasn't going to ask about his stash right here and now, and from what Birdee remembered, he seemed like a guy with a good sense of humor. Or a twisted one at least. Shame the only thing they could talk about was drugs, punching a guy's face in, or getting shot-since neither knew the other well enough to talk about any other topic. Not that Birdee was looking to get into some deep conversation about anything serious anyways. Not yet, anyways.
When the bus came to a stop, Birdee positioned her head back to the way it should normally rest and her eyes landed on none other than Heathen. Wasn't that just...lucky? Birdee thought to herself as she climbed aboard and noticed the spot he made for her. "Hey, H." Birdee said before she sat down next to him, making sure she stayed in her 'seat' and didn't cross over into his. While she was pretty positive she wouldn't get any of his 'vibes,' Birdee still wanted to stick clear of making any real contact with him, or anyone. "Thanks, pal." The words were genuine, no sense of sarcasm or malice in her voice. The guy that had been behind her at the stop, mosied his way past them, Birdee sucking her foot in closer from the aisle to make sure he didn't touch her; even by accident.
"Still feeling like taking me to the park?" Birdee asked, her back finding the back of the plastic seat once the bus starts moving again. "You big romantic, you." Birdee smirked then nudged him with her elbow, indicating she was screwing with him. Obviously, she wasn't going to ask about his stash right here and now, and from what Birdee remembered, he seemed like a guy with a good sense of humor. Or a twisted one at least. Shame the only thing they could talk about was drugs, punching a guy's face in, or getting shot-since neither knew the other well enough to talk about any other topic. Not that Birdee was looking to get into some deep conversation about anything serious anyways. Not yet, anyways.
In the land of gods and monsters,
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
-
Heathen
- Registered User
- Posts: 52
- Joined: 03 Oct 2016, 18:56
Re: Friends in Strange Places
Heathen watched the woman get closer, a figure looming behind her, and then passing her by when she dropped to sit beside him. The window of the bus, and the metal frame were both cold to the touch, not that the vampire was particularly bothered by the way the chill wormed its way through the thick fabric of the trench coat. There was a no smoking sign at the front of the bus. Not that it normally would have stopped Heathen, but with a careful arrangement of mirrors, the driver could see everything that happened. With scant cover, he couldn't have gotten away with it, and the last thing he wanted was to get booted off of his only reliable means of transit. A fact which made him just a smidge irritable. He ended up slumping back against the tall seat, his knees shoved to where they very nearly touched the back of the seat ahead of him. Legs spread for comfort.
"BB." He greeted with a grin, none the less. The first time he'd met the woman, there'd been a guy there who had called her Cherry Bomb. That didn't seem inaccurate from what he'd seen of her. She didn't quite have Heathen's own admittedly explosive temper, but she wasn't afraid to tell someone to shove it when they offended her; this being a quality the vampire appreciated. Then there was the whole magic thing. There was information out in abundance about the existence of vampires. There were news stories, and talk show meetings, and even bestselling books by or about them. However, he'd never heard of magical people who could do things like heal wounds. Of course, he'd also never actually seen it with his own two eyes. In the haste of their previous meeting, he hadn't had a chance to really question it. Was it real? Was it some sort of game?
He was curious, but he didn't want to spook her by getting too personal, too quick. He knew he could be scant when it came to details about himself or his past, after all. "Yeah, no big brother at the park." There were a few cameras at the front of the bus. One of them was aimed onto the street, to ensure that if a bus got into a crash, liability could be assigned accordingly. There were also a couple that aimed onto either of the bus's sides. Along with a final one that was angled to view all of the riders. Of course, Heathen was pretty sure the thing was almost never actually turned on, but why risk getting caught over something so small? Rule number one of making money on the street: The risk has to outweigh the reward.
"Romantic am I? Guess I gotta serenade you then." He said, once more pulling his phone out so he could hit the icon for the music app. Seconds later, the beginning to Carry On my Wayword Son by Kansas started. Of course, Heathen knew all of the words, and only needed the music loud enough to ramble along to. His voice wasn't particularly good, years of smoke abuse having seemingly permanently damaged his ability to make any vocal texture other than raspy. Which was maybe odd for someone who only looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. None the less, he sang with conviction enough that one of the people at the back of the bus called out.
"Keep that garbage down!" To which Heathen offered up his hand, with all but one finger tugged down against a palm. His arm shot up over the back of the seat almost immediately.
And then he scooted up enough to get a look at whoever he was picking a fight with for the moment. There were a set of green eyes focused on his digit and then on his own, near black orbs. There was this look of indignation. Reddening of the cheeks. Then they puffed out until it looked like they might pop. Instead, air filtered past lips. Heathen watched it all, curious to see if the guy was actually going to do anything. He didn't. Not surprising. The vampire had learned a long time before that most people liked to talk and bluster. When it came time to deliver the goods? Nothing.
So Heathen shot a look to Birdee. Then grinned. Then chuckled. His hand dropped.
"BB." He greeted with a grin, none the less. The first time he'd met the woman, there'd been a guy there who had called her Cherry Bomb. That didn't seem inaccurate from what he'd seen of her. She didn't quite have Heathen's own admittedly explosive temper, but she wasn't afraid to tell someone to shove it when they offended her; this being a quality the vampire appreciated. Then there was the whole magic thing. There was information out in abundance about the existence of vampires. There were news stories, and talk show meetings, and even bestselling books by or about them. However, he'd never heard of magical people who could do things like heal wounds. Of course, he'd also never actually seen it with his own two eyes. In the haste of their previous meeting, he hadn't had a chance to really question it. Was it real? Was it some sort of game?
He was curious, but he didn't want to spook her by getting too personal, too quick. He knew he could be scant when it came to details about himself or his past, after all. "Yeah, no big brother at the park." There were a few cameras at the front of the bus. One of them was aimed onto the street, to ensure that if a bus got into a crash, liability could be assigned accordingly. There were also a couple that aimed onto either of the bus's sides. Along with a final one that was angled to view all of the riders. Of course, Heathen was pretty sure the thing was almost never actually turned on, but why risk getting caught over something so small? Rule number one of making money on the street: The risk has to outweigh the reward.
"Romantic am I? Guess I gotta serenade you then." He said, once more pulling his phone out so he could hit the icon for the music app. Seconds later, the beginning to Carry On my Wayword Son by Kansas started. Of course, Heathen knew all of the words, and only needed the music loud enough to ramble along to. His voice wasn't particularly good, years of smoke abuse having seemingly permanently damaged his ability to make any vocal texture other than raspy. Which was maybe odd for someone who only looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. None the less, he sang with conviction enough that one of the people at the back of the bus called out.
"Keep that garbage down!" To which Heathen offered up his hand, with all but one finger tugged down against a palm. His arm shot up over the back of the seat almost immediately.
And then he scooted up enough to get a look at whoever he was picking a fight with for the moment. There were a set of green eyes focused on his digit and then on his own, near black orbs. There was this look of indignation. Reddening of the cheeks. Then they puffed out until it looked like they might pop. Instead, air filtered past lips. Heathen watched it all, curious to see if the guy was actually going to do anything. He didn't. Not surprising. The vampire had learned a long time before that most people liked to talk and bluster. When it came time to deliver the goods? Nothing.
So Heathen shot a look to Birdee. Then grinned. Then chuckled. His hand dropped.
Next Stop Thornside Park
It showed in big red letters on a screen at the front.-
Birdee
- Registered User
- Posts: 227
- Joined: 08 Oct 2016, 23:25
- CrowNet Handle: Rompasaurus
Re: Friends in Strange Places
BB. Birdee had no idea how she got that name from Heathen, dubbed forever 'H' for now, but she didn't mind it. If she did, she would have said something to his face about it. When Heathen mentioned 'big brother,' Birdee snorted and slunked down deeper into the seat of the bus as her eyes looked at the letters on the sign in a nice bright red color. What a funny name, she thought to herself with a shake of her head.
Birdee turned to the side when Heathen mentioned serenading her and gave him a slightly skeptical look. Only because she didn't think with his sense of humor that he was actually going to do it. But, sure as ****, he whipped out a phone and played a song-that made her laugh. "Wow. I bet you make everyone you belt that tune out to weak in the knees." Birdee laughed, turned and gave a glare in the direction of a guy that had glanced in their direction, an evil eye. While Heathen might not be the best singer in the world (not that Birdee ever claimed she possessed any talent in that respect), he wasn't the worst singer in the world.
Her fingers came to rest against the plastic in front of them, fingers splayed on the top of the seat, before the right set of fingers played with the left set, more specifically the silver rings on her fingers that she wore about ninety percent of the time whenever she left her apartment. And even then, she probably wore them more than half the time in her apartment. Nothing was special about them, just chosen by Birdee for the way they looked. The first was just a simple silver band with an aquamarine colored stone that wrapped around her pointer finger. The middle finger had a ring of silver in the shape of a 'v' and finally, on her pinky was just a simple silver coil ring that had a silver knot on the outside edge. This one was played with the most out of the other two, before she sighed and let her eyes move up to the camera's she knew were always there, but didn't pay them any mind until there was a few minutes of silence.
Not digging the silence, Birdee decided to switch where her eyes focused and looked at Heathen. Or, really in his direction, but more like focused on what was going on outside as the bus moved on to its destination. Her eyes absorbed the colors of the street traffic signals and other lights from buildings they passed. Her pupils bounced and danced around like a symphony as Birdee tried to find something specific to hold her attention for longer than a couple of seconds. Impossible, due to the bus moving and the fact she sometimes had an attention span that was shorter than she would like it to be. "If you dig Wayward Son, you should check out Icarus. I think that's a sweeter tune, by far." Birdee said before she stood up, as the bus started coming to a crawl when the park came into view. The guy she had given a stink eye to before, still got a glare from as Birdee passed him, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her sweatshirt, her thumb playing with the ring on her pointer finger while her hand was nestled away. When the doors opened, Birdee sprung out and took a few hops away from the bus, absorbing the crisp night air. The bus had been too warm and too stuffy for her likes, but what could be done about that? A whole lot of nothing. Zilch. Nada.
"Thank ****. Now we can have a legit conversation without those cranky fucks." Birdee said with a roll of her eyes, hands still tucked away. Though, what a legit conversation was, to Birdee was anything from the type of drugs Heathen brought, to something she read on facebook, to even the real million dollar question that would eventually come later. "You know, if the bus fare goes up anymore in this city, I'm boycotting. Like, why should I have to pay more money to sit next to a buncha 'wankers?'" A new word that was put into her vocabulary thanks to 'Eyes,' the last time Heathen and Birdee saw the other. Her hands were pulled out of her sweatshirt pockets then and rubbed together as her eyes lit up. "Which is why, the world is always a better place when there are party favors." Birdee concluded as she started walking away from the curb as the bus roared off to its next location.
Birdee turned to the side when Heathen mentioned serenading her and gave him a slightly skeptical look. Only because she didn't think with his sense of humor that he was actually going to do it. But, sure as ****, he whipped out a phone and played a song-that made her laugh. "Wow. I bet you make everyone you belt that tune out to weak in the knees." Birdee laughed, turned and gave a glare in the direction of a guy that had glanced in their direction, an evil eye. While Heathen might not be the best singer in the world (not that Birdee ever claimed she possessed any talent in that respect), he wasn't the worst singer in the world.
Her fingers came to rest against the plastic in front of them, fingers splayed on the top of the seat, before the right set of fingers played with the left set, more specifically the silver rings on her fingers that she wore about ninety percent of the time whenever she left her apartment. And even then, she probably wore them more than half the time in her apartment. Nothing was special about them, just chosen by Birdee for the way they looked. The first was just a simple silver band with an aquamarine colored stone that wrapped around her pointer finger. The middle finger had a ring of silver in the shape of a 'v' and finally, on her pinky was just a simple silver coil ring that had a silver knot on the outside edge. This one was played with the most out of the other two, before she sighed and let her eyes move up to the camera's she knew were always there, but didn't pay them any mind until there was a few minutes of silence.
Not digging the silence, Birdee decided to switch where her eyes focused and looked at Heathen. Or, really in his direction, but more like focused on what was going on outside as the bus moved on to its destination. Her eyes absorbed the colors of the street traffic signals and other lights from buildings they passed. Her pupils bounced and danced around like a symphony as Birdee tried to find something specific to hold her attention for longer than a couple of seconds. Impossible, due to the bus moving and the fact she sometimes had an attention span that was shorter than she would like it to be. "If you dig Wayward Son, you should check out Icarus. I think that's a sweeter tune, by far." Birdee said before she stood up, as the bus started coming to a crawl when the park came into view. The guy she had given a stink eye to before, still got a glare from as Birdee passed him, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her sweatshirt, her thumb playing with the ring on her pointer finger while her hand was nestled away. When the doors opened, Birdee sprung out and took a few hops away from the bus, absorbing the crisp night air. The bus had been too warm and too stuffy for her likes, but what could be done about that? A whole lot of nothing. Zilch. Nada.
"Thank ****. Now we can have a legit conversation without those cranky fucks." Birdee said with a roll of her eyes, hands still tucked away. Though, what a legit conversation was, to Birdee was anything from the type of drugs Heathen brought, to something she read on facebook, to even the real million dollar question that would eventually come later. "You know, if the bus fare goes up anymore in this city, I'm boycotting. Like, why should I have to pay more money to sit next to a buncha 'wankers?'" A new word that was put into her vocabulary thanks to 'Eyes,' the last time Heathen and Birdee saw the other. Her hands were pulled out of her sweatshirt pockets then and rubbed together as her eyes lit up. "Which is why, the world is always a better place when there are party favors." Birdee concluded as she started walking away from the curb as the bus roared off to its next location.
In the land of gods and monsters,
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
-
Heathen
- Registered User
- Posts: 52
- Joined: 03 Oct 2016, 18:56
Re: Friends in Strange Places
Heathen had heard that the crime rate in Harper Rock had been gradually going up over time, that at one point, it had been just like any other place on earth. A few years back though, when Gambondale had shut down, some of the social elite, and the 'mom and pop' shop owners had begun to vacate. Buildings were abandoned with little word, and it seemed like the criminal element just moved in. Milo knew what that was like. He'd grown up in a place with an exceptionally high crime rate, where that was a way of life. Where an honest day's work usually involved finding a new way to scam the state, and any other source of regular employment happened to be less legal. Harper Rock looked like any other city to him. Just lights and asphalt arteries. It was just a place. Yet there were things lurking there, weren't there? How many unsolved violent crimes had been at the hands of 'his kind'? Ironically, it was probably safer out on the street than it had been in years, because cops knew to look for pale skinned, shady mother fuckers now.
"Yeah, I make 'em weak alright." He commented, self-deprecating in his humor. He knew his strengths and weaknesses, didn't expect people to pretend he was good at things he wasn't. The good-natured sarcasm earned Birdee a half grin. A look that challenged her to do better, but lacking in the weight of true malice. Heathen wasn'at a particularly hard person to piss off, but when he got to know someone, or was getting to know them, it took a different type of offense to draw out his ire. Like when they refused to listen to his advice about some asshole. Or when they did something stupidly reckless. But really, he was like an angry dog. Barking at someone new, snapping at them, until they gave him a treat and rubbed his proverbial belly.
"Sure, I'll check it out." He murmured. Honestly, the only reason he'd even added Wayward Son was that it reminded him of Supernatural, a show of which he was an avid but unadmitted fan. His musical tastes were all over the board. Sometimes he liked rap. Sometimes he wanted to listen to k-pop (He'd actually gone through a phase where he'd been teaching himself how to make Korean cuisine). Other times, rock was the only thing that got through the haze in his mind. Not that he had time to consider genre. They were on the move, when the bus came to a stop. Heathen gave the man who'd given him a hard time one last grin before he exited onto the curb. The night air was chill enough that it stung the inside of his nose and made it a little harder to draw out every distinct scent. Like the thick greenery, or the defunct sewage line, or the other urban smells.
"On seats that are probably more fart than cushion." He agreed. Inflation really was a *****. "You know, I bet this area probably has some kind of discount for students or something. It wouldn't be too hard to make friends with someone at a local college and get them to make us some I.D. cards." Or they could just make them themselves. In Heathen's experience, university students got discounts on just about everything. One of the 'life hacks' he'd learned as he moved from city to city was that if you pretended you were going to one of the local schools, people were not only a lot nicer to you, but suspected you less of crime and gave you free ****. Hell, there was this one place that had completely free bus fare if you had the right identification.
The bus was gone, and the pair of them were left ambling towards the park. Heathen's hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He didn't need the warmth, but he was used to putting them there. He kept close to Birdee as well, glancing ahead. This time of year there were no late night joggers. Too cold. And besides, who wanted to increase their heart rate when a vampire might be around the next corner? Fall and winter turned public parks into daytime festivals of vibrant color, and then ice skating respectively. By night, the criminal children of the underworld came out to play though, to conduct their business. There were some mobsters that liked to save up their dead bodies until late fall, then weigh them down and dump them into a body of water right before the water froze over. By the time the water thawed in the spring, those people were long missing, and people had already given up on finding them.
He felt a buzzing against his hand, and dragged his phone out of his pocket again. He swiped and eyed a brand new text. Both brows shoved their way upwards on his head. Cue the lax grin, and the pause in step. He eyed it for a moment then stuffed the thing back away as he moved to catch up with Birdee, his long legs giving him an even stride needed to approach in only a second or two. "So aside from party favors, what are you interested in purchasing?" He asked as his gaze slid side-long, leaving him peering over to the woman. There was a frosty bench up ahead, but he had no intention of sitting down. As he breathed, his words didn't fog the air, but with the rumble of public transit behind them, he immediately reached for his pack and lighter. Artificial heat wormed its way into his lungs in the night, and came out, not as white mist, but gray smoke.
"Yeah, I make 'em weak alright." He commented, self-deprecating in his humor. He knew his strengths and weaknesses, didn't expect people to pretend he was good at things he wasn't. The good-natured sarcasm earned Birdee a half grin. A look that challenged her to do better, but lacking in the weight of true malice. Heathen wasn'at a particularly hard person to piss off, but when he got to know someone, or was getting to know them, it took a different type of offense to draw out his ire. Like when they refused to listen to his advice about some asshole. Or when they did something stupidly reckless. But really, he was like an angry dog. Barking at someone new, snapping at them, until they gave him a treat and rubbed his proverbial belly.
"Sure, I'll check it out." He murmured. Honestly, the only reason he'd even added Wayward Son was that it reminded him of Supernatural, a show of which he was an avid but unadmitted fan. His musical tastes were all over the board. Sometimes he liked rap. Sometimes he wanted to listen to k-pop (He'd actually gone through a phase where he'd been teaching himself how to make Korean cuisine). Other times, rock was the only thing that got through the haze in his mind. Not that he had time to consider genre. They were on the move, when the bus came to a stop. Heathen gave the man who'd given him a hard time one last grin before he exited onto the curb. The night air was chill enough that it stung the inside of his nose and made it a little harder to draw out every distinct scent. Like the thick greenery, or the defunct sewage line, or the other urban smells.
"On seats that are probably more fart than cushion." He agreed. Inflation really was a *****. "You know, I bet this area probably has some kind of discount for students or something. It wouldn't be too hard to make friends with someone at a local college and get them to make us some I.D. cards." Or they could just make them themselves. In Heathen's experience, university students got discounts on just about everything. One of the 'life hacks' he'd learned as he moved from city to city was that if you pretended you were going to one of the local schools, people were not only a lot nicer to you, but suspected you less of crime and gave you free ****. Hell, there was this one place that had completely free bus fare if you had the right identification.
The bus was gone, and the pair of them were left ambling towards the park. Heathen's hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He didn't need the warmth, but he was used to putting them there. He kept close to Birdee as well, glancing ahead. This time of year there were no late night joggers. Too cold. And besides, who wanted to increase their heart rate when a vampire might be around the next corner? Fall and winter turned public parks into daytime festivals of vibrant color, and then ice skating respectively. By night, the criminal children of the underworld came out to play though, to conduct their business. There were some mobsters that liked to save up their dead bodies until late fall, then weigh them down and dump them into a body of water right before the water froze over. By the time the water thawed in the spring, those people were long missing, and people had already given up on finding them.
He felt a buzzing against his hand, and dragged his phone out of his pocket again. He swiped and eyed a brand new text. Both brows shoved their way upwards on his head. Cue the lax grin, and the pause in step. He eyed it for a moment then stuffed the thing back away as he moved to catch up with Birdee, his long legs giving him an even stride needed to approach in only a second or two. "So aside from party favors, what are you interested in purchasing?" He asked as his gaze slid side-long, leaving him peering over to the woman. There was a frosty bench up ahead, but he had no intention of sitting down. As he breathed, his words didn't fog the air, but with the rumble of public transit behind them, he immediately reached for his pack and lighter. Artificial heat wormed its way into his lungs in the night, and came out, not as white mist, but gray smoke.
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Birdee
- Registered User
- Posts: 227
- Joined: 08 Oct 2016, 23:25
- CrowNet Handle: Rompasaurus
Re: Friends in Strange Places
When Heathen agreed with Birdee about the bus fare, she nodded her head, thinking about what he suggested. Did she know anyone in any college in town? Nope. But, maybe he did, since he came up with the idea. ”Yeah. **** yeah! That would be wicked cool.” Birdee said, thinking it was the best idea she heard all day, if not all week. Really, the people she hung out with on a typical basis didn’t have the brightest ideas. The best ideas they came up with was where to get some of the best food in the city when the munchies kicked in.
The fingers in her sweatshirt played with the petty cash; the bigger stash kept some place closer to Birdee. They had only walked a few steps from where the bus dropped them off, when ‘H’ got to the point and then some. It was likely she misunderstood him and all Heathen wanted to know was what sort of fix Birdee was looking for, but with the thought there in her mind, she was curious. Birdee wondered if that was some vampire power, knowing that there was more to this meetup, other than scoring some pills or something to smoke. Like some mind reading powers.”Woah, slow down there zipee. How about we get to the heavy stuff in a bit?” Birdee reached inside her sweatshirt and unzipped a zipper that was above some mesh lining. She pulled out a few colorful bills-totalling somewhere a little over fifty bucks. ”What can a girl get with this?’ She started unraveling the bills so they weren’t folded together, letting Heathen see what she had. While Birdee more or less knew what stuff sold for on the streets, this was his chance to prove what sort of person he was. Sellers had their own prices, but they weren’t going to try and raise them to a ridiculous amount-not when Birdee could walk a few blocks down in the same seedy part of town and get the same **** for cheaper, or the standard street price. Would Heathen try and make some quick cash, or would he be reasonable and straightforward?
With the money in her right hand, Birdee’s eyes fell on a trash bin, then a bench, and finally a couple of signs that were put into the grounds for announcements that the general public should know. Things like, ‘Don’t feed the fowls,’ or, ‘No littering!’ Accompanied with signs like, ‘No Dogs,’ and ‘No after hours trespassing.’ with no postings on just what after hours were. Her left hand pulled at her hair, tossing it to her right side as Birdee waited for Heathen to either take it and count it, or tell her what he could give her for the cash she brought. ”Really hoping for something in a form of a pill, if you’ve got it. Would have to wait if I’ve got to smoke it. Big brother and all.” While there might not be anyone around that she could see, or hear, Birdee wasn’t going to take her chances by lighting up a blunt right in the middle of a park. ”If you’ve got some party favors like that. But beggars and all that, right?” In the end, no matter what Heathen had that she could afford, Birdee would take it, even if that meant she would have to wait a couple hours.
The fingers in her sweatshirt played with the petty cash; the bigger stash kept some place closer to Birdee. They had only walked a few steps from where the bus dropped them off, when ‘H’ got to the point and then some. It was likely she misunderstood him and all Heathen wanted to know was what sort of fix Birdee was looking for, but with the thought there in her mind, she was curious. Birdee wondered if that was some vampire power, knowing that there was more to this meetup, other than scoring some pills or something to smoke. Like some mind reading powers.”Woah, slow down there zipee. How about we get to the heavy stuff in a bit?” Birdee reached inside her sweatshirt and unzipped a zipper that was above some mesh lining. She pulled out a few colorful bills-totalling somewhere a little over fifty bucks. ”What can a girl get with this?’ She started unraveling the bills so they weren’t folded together, letting Heathen see what she had. While Birdee more or less knew what stuff sold for on the streets, this was his chance to prove what sort of person he was. Sellers had their own prices, but they weren’t going to try and raise them to a ridiculous amount-not when Birdee could walk a few blocks down in the same seedy part of town and get the same **** for cheaper, or the standard street price. Would Heathen try and make some quick cash, or would he be reasonable and straightforward?
With the money in her right hand, Birdee’s eyes fell on a trash bin, then a bench, and finally a couple of signs that were put into the grounds for announcements that the general public should know. Things like, ‘Don’t feed the fowls,’ or, ‘No littering!’ Accompanied with signs like, ‘No Dogs,’ and ‘No after hours trespassing.’ with no postings on just what after hours were. Her left hand pulled at her hair, tossing it to her right side as Birdee waited for Heathen to either take it and count it, or tell her what he could give her for the cash she brought. ”Really hoping for something in a form of a pill, if you’ve got it. Would have to wait if I’ve got to smoke it. Big brother and all.” While there might not be anyone around that she could see, or hear, Birdee wasn’t going to take her chances by lighting up a blunt right in the middle of a park. ”If you’ve got some party favors like that. But beggars and all that, right?” In the end, no matter what Heathen had that she could afford, Birdee would take it, even if that meant she would have to wait a couple hours.
In the land of gods and monsters,
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
I was an angel, lookin' to get fucked hard.
-
Heathen
- Registered User
- Posts: 52
- Joined: 03 Oct 2016, 18:56
Re: Friends in Strange Places
Zipee? Really? He laughed, big puffs of smoke pouring out of him to punctuate the sound, and that inevitably died down into a harsh wheezing sound, which usually counted as his normal 'chuckle'. There was something strange about what she said, how she phrased it, but thanks to the new and impromptu nickname, Heathen missed it entirely. Instead, as soon as the cash came out, his eyes were on it. He wasn't particularly greedy. In fact, he could just take the things that he wanted most of the time. It helped that he didn't need to eat or drink anymore, which cut out its own very particular set of costs. But ultimately, he worked with a gang, which meant he was expected to rake in some cash. And the Canadian dollar was about one and a third over the US dollar (which he was more familiar with). A little basic math told him she was waving around thirty-eight bucks at him.
He took the cash, and thumbed through it, tip of his tongue digging at the corner of his mouth in thought before he rolled it and pushed it into a pocket, from which came his ziplock baggie of treats. Normally, that was a bad move. A dealer who shows off his entire stash is usually amateur or working with someone who doesn't know what drugs they want. But pulling out a bag of them was a good way of getting caught for distribution, or getting a gun held to your forehead by the person you're trying to sell to. Dealers were like a ******* buffet for some people. Not only did they hold the goods, they also usually walked around with a **** ton of cash. So Mr. Walking-Pharmacy, had to be smart about his business, and quick to reach for a gun if he was going to survive.
But he doubted he was going to get trouble from Birdee. After all, he knew her name. He knew how she got around town, and Heathen had the benefit of already being a corpse.
If she wanted to take something immediately, that ruled out Oxy, because most people took that in the privacy of their own home. Poor man's heroin, it gave a very similar drowsy, spaced out high. "You're not allergic to Ex are you?" He asked as he reached down towards the bottom. Prices fluctuated all over the world. What might be a dollar per pill in Poland or the Netherlands might sell for forty or more times that in the States or Canada. A price driven up due largely to government involvement in the form of 'The War on Drugs', in the US. While most drugs weren't all that hard to produce and could be made pretty cheaply, if there was a lot of risk involved in distributing them, a person could charge ridiculous prices. Normally he would have sold a single pill for about twenty, but he'd come by his stock for free, off of some gangsters who had been dumb enough to try and shake him down. "I'll toss you four, and a pack of gum for free, but I'm being generous." He said as he fished out the little pills with the smiley faces on them.
"Gum will have to come later though." Because some people got this urge to grind their teeth. But thankfully Ex didn't normally kick in right away. It just lasted a really ******* long time when it did. And that was when it hit him. She was describing the drugs as party favors. He'd actually been talking about legit party favors. Making something of a joke really. Which meant...was there something else going on? There wasn't really enough for him to go off of to say one way or the other. He didn't get any bad vibes, like she was going to **** him over though, so he didn't really care. If she had another job for him, he wasn't going to turn up his nose at a little more cash. Or whatever she was planning to pay with.
He handed over the pills, which lacked covering once removed from the plastic.
"Tell your friends. Throw a party. My business grows by word of mouth."
He took the cash, and thumbed through it, tip of his tongue digging at the corner of his mouth in thought before he rolled it and pushed it into a pocket, from which came his ziplock baggie of treats. Normally, that was a bad move. A dealer who shows off his entire stash is usually amateur or working with someone who doesn't know what drugs they want. But pulling out a bag of them was a good way of getting caught for distribution, or getting a gun held to your forehead by the person you're trying to sell to. Dealers were like a ******* buffet for some people. Not only did they hold the goods, they also usually walked around with a **** ton of cash. So Mr. Walking-Pharmacy, had to be smart about his business, and quick to reach for a gun if he was going to survive.
But he doubted he was going to get trouble from Birdee. After all, he knew her name. He knew how she got around town, and Heathen had the benefit of already being a corpse.
If she wanted to take something immediately, that ruled out Oxy, because most people took that in the privacy of their own home. Poor man's heroin, it gave a very similar drowsy, spaced out high. "You're not allergic to Ex are you?" He asked as he reached down towards the bottom. Prices fluctuated all over the world. What might be a dollar per pill in Poland or the Netherlands might sell for forty or more times that in the States or Canada. A price driven up due largely to government involvement in the form of 'The War on Drugs', in the US. While most drugs weren't all that hard to produce and could be made pretty cheaply, if there was a lot of risk involved in distributing them, a person could charge ridiculous prices. Normally he would have sold a single pill for about twenty, but he'd come by his stock for free, off of some gangsters who had been dumb enough to try and shake him down. "I'll toss you four, and a pack of gum for free, but I'm being generous." He said as he fished out the little pills with the smiley faces on them.
"Gum will have to come later though." Because some people got this urge to grind their teeth. But thankfully Ex didn't normally kick in right away. It just lasted a really ******* long time when it did. And that was when it hit him. She was describing the drugs as party favors. He'd actually been talking about legit party favors. Making something of a joke really. Which meant...was there something else going on? There wasn't really enough for him to go off of to say one way or the other. He didn't get any bad vibes, like she was going to **** him over though, so he didn't really care. If she had another job for him, he wasn't going to turn up his nose at a little more cash. Or whatever she was planning to pay with.
He handed over the pills, which lacked covering once removed from the plastic.
"Tell your friends. Throw a party. My business grows by word of mouth."